


Would you bleed for me

by badthingfine_as_hell



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ghost Heather Chandler, Ghost Jason "J.D." Dean, Sex, fun hauntings, ha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-19 06:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badthingfine_as_hell/pseuds/badthingfine_as_hell
Summary: J.D. wakes up in the schoolyard right where Veronica left him, so he decides to pay her a visit. Things get a little sticky when he realizes that he's not the only dead teenager vying for her affections.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So dead J.D. and dead Heather C. both love Veronica, and Veronica loves them back. Sue me. More to come.

J.D. woke up (materialized? regained sentience?) surrounded by firetrucks, ambulances, police cars, and hazmat suits scraping little bits of his flesh off the ground.

The grass under his feet was scorched black, and when he tried to lift up one boot for inspection, he hovered a few inches above the ground. Very interesting. The school was unsurprisingly still intact, but _he _was splattered all over the grounds. Veronica must have been doused in his blood and ash.

Speaking of his lovely ex-girlfriend, she was nowhere in the vicinity. Just a bunch of uniforms. It was going to be rather inconvenient to track her down, but worth it. His lips curved at the thought of her face when she realized that even death couldn’t stop him from holding her again.

J.D. took a careful step through the air, quickly finding that he could either float or walk. Not a single uniform turned their head when he floated by. No one flinched as his fingers passed through their skulls. His own flesh felt very real to him, but the rest of the world was lost.

He would find a way to have Veronica, though. Of that he was sure.

It took an annoyingly long time to make his way to her house, and he wasn’t even sure she would be there. But where else would she go? Not the school, that was for certain. She wasn’t squeamish, but even hewould avoid that absolute desecration. Well, if it was her. The rest of the school would be different. And besides, he would have sensed her if she was there.

Her parents were huddled together in the living room, tears leaking from her mother’s eyes as her father held her. “She’s fine, she’s fine,” he chanted, rocking his wife back and forth. J.D. huffed and tried to kick over a lamp. His foot just passed through.

But he was getting warmer. He looked up the stairs that led to Veronica’s room, a slow, wide smile splitting his cheeks. He could have just floated through the window, but he wanted to make an impression, ya know? He was getting to see Veronica again, in death. They were truly meant to be if blowing himself up into a million, messy pieces didn’t stand in his way of coming back to her.

He couldn’t decide if he was going to kiss her or kill her. Maybe both.

J.D. savored each step. He trailed his fingertips along the wall, wishing he could actually feel the plaster and leave deep gouges marking his way up to Veronica. Much too soon and he was standing in front of her door, almost shaking with the overwhelming sense that she was a few feet away. Waiting there for _him_. She must know that he would come back for her.

J.D. found himself lingering at the doorway, daydreaming. Veronica could be curled on top of her bedding, a goddess in a blue miniskirt and tights. Or she could be sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously in her journal like she’d been the night he first came through the window. (She didn’t know that he’d read it later while she was sleeping – all of it – he especially liked the parts about him). She could be anxiously staring at the door for the moment that he would come back into her life.

He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it a way he knew she liked, before stepping through.

Veronica, his little killer, was twisted in the sheets, lips parted and eyes closed delicately. J.D. took a breathless moment to appreciate how utterly _delicious _she was. Her dark curls were messy and stood out in stark contrast to her white t-shirt. She had a few cuts on her cheeks and nose, presumably from being so close to the blast, that he couldn’t wait to examine up close. God, he wasn’t even annoyed that she was sleeping soundly after watching him turn to ash. She was perfect.

He smiled darkly at the room and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, sidled up to the side of the bed. He leaned down, lips just above the shell of her ear, ready to whisper her name, when a very solid hand grabbed his arm and yanked him so hard that he crashed to the carpet.

J.D. stared up, shocked, into the eyes of a furious Heather Chandler.

“Get the fuck away FROM HER!” She screeched, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs. He grunted in pain and rolled away, scrambled quickly to his feet. Heather advanced toward him, her perfectly manicured finger digging into his chest.

“I knew you’d come back here, you piece of SHIT! Go to HELL!”

He shot a panicked look toward Veronica, who was still blissfully asleep. The sight steeled him, and he grabbed Heather’s wrist, eyes narrowing.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Chandler?” She was sabotaging their reunion. He thought he’d gotten rid of her ages ago. But here she was, in all of her pink satin, batshit crazy glory. And speaking of past kills…

He glared around the room. “And where are your pet jocks, huh?” The thought of Kurt and Ram’s stinking souls inhabiting _Veronica’s _room made him want to murder them all over again. Preferably this time it would last longer and be more painful.

But Kurt and Ram never materialized. Just the blonde bitch.

She yanked her wrist from his grasp and crossed her arms. “They went on, dipshit. Like I hoped you would. But I could never be lucky enough for your emo ass to go straight to hell. You’re like a goddamn parasite.” J.D. didn’t miss the way she was positioning her body in front of the bed and inching him backwards, away from Veronica. “She doesn’t want you here. No one does.”

“Oh, really? Did she tell you that?”

Heather’s fingers twitched like she was going to slap him. But he would be ready when she tried. He was not going to give Heather Chandler the upper hand again. “She shot you,” she pointed out. “Seems like a pretty clear signal to me.”

He rolled his eyes, didn’t bother mentioning that it had been in self-defense. He had lunged at Veronica with his switchblade; it wasn’t like she shot him unprovoked. Anyways, what he was much more interested in was why Heather seemed annoyingly intent on protecting (guarding?) Veronica when she was part of the reason she was dead.

“I don’t think Veronica would want you here, either, seeing as you bullied her to the point of accepting my hangover cure.” He smiled at the good memory. “Veronica’s much better off without you, sorry.”

He brushed her aside, barely registered the gleam of angry tears, and strode toward the bed. “Ronnie–”

And then Heather Chandler was on his back, screaming and pulling his hair like a wildcat. They both fell to the floor, grappling, spitting curses at each other, when a very different scream entered the mix.

The ghosts locked eyes, then looked up toward the bed. Veronica was sitting up, ramrod straight, staring at them both with horror in her eyes. “Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod, ohmigod.” Another bloodcurdling scream. 

Footsteps pounded up the staircase, the parents’ let out terrified shouts, then Heather was grabbing his coat and hissing in his ear, “let’s _go_, jackass,” and they were out the window before he had a chance to comprehend what was happening.

*** 

They ended up at the Snappy Snack Shack. No one else could see them.

“Use what’s left of your brain after you blew it to hell.” Heather was trying to teach him how to hold a cigarette; it kept falling through his fingers. “Concentrate on how it felt when you were alive. You smoked enough of the goddamn things that I’m sure you remember.”

He glared at her, then shifted his attention to the cig. Very, very carefully he managed to pick it up. She gave a sarcastic applause.

“Can you touch Veronica?”

The clapping stopped.

Heather leaned against the brick wall, her gaze trained on the ground. “I haven’t tried,” she said softly, “that was the first time she’s ever seen or heard me.” Blue eyes darted up with burning hatred. “And you ruined it, you prick.

“_I _moved the gun to where she would notice it after you left. _I _was in the boiler room. You don’t know how fucking great it felt when she shot you. I was cheering her on.”

J.D. inhaled deeply on his cigarette and decided to just let her talk. She was obviously starved for interaction, and he could use whatever scrap of information he could get out of her.

Heather kicked a trashcan lid across the parking lot, startling a few preteens who left quickly in a bout of nervous laughter.

“I thought I came back because I was supposed to protect her from you. I did my job! I should either get to have her or move on!”

J.D. raised his eyebrows, but she was on a roll.

“Then when nothing changed, and _you _showed up.” She balled her fists. “I don’t know why she fell for you, chose you, when I was _right there_.”

The cigarette passed through his fingers, fell to the concrete, he blinked. Oh.

“You…like Veronica?” It didn’t make any sense at all. None. Zip. Nada. Veronica had told him plenty of stories of Heather Chandler’s cruelty, aimed at everyone, including her. No inkling of what dead Heather claimed.

She seemed to guess what he was thinking. She laughed, shrill and mean.

“Of course, I didn’t fully realize it until she started drooling over you in the caf.” Heather gave him a disdainful once over, like she had no clue why anyone would commit such a travesty. “Then I thought she was going to hop on your bike and leave me in the dust when we came here before the party.”

J.D. remembered that night. Veronica dropped her croquet mallet when he pushed off her blazer and laid her small hands on his chest, looked up at him like he was god. He’d laid her down in a secluded corner of the backyard and spent hours discovering every sensitive spot, every position she liked, what made her moan and what made her scream. The beginning of the end, really.

“Then when you both showed up to my house…” Heather trailed off, bringing him back to reality. “You never deserved Veronica. You never will.”

What would happen if he tried killing her again? Would it work? Or was he stuck with this bitch forever? Maybe he and Veronica could exorcise her, she’d like that, he thought with a smile, sending Heather straight to hell.

“You’re a hypocrite, Chandler.” He crushed the cigarette with his boot. “But we need to go back, her parents probably told her it was a nightmare, but I doubt she’s convinced.”

Heather nodded, for once not adding some bitchy commentary. Instead, she looked out at the parking lot almost…longingly. J.D. narrowed his eyes. He did not like competition, but he was confident that Veronica didn’t return the feelings. And maybe this would be a good thing, something in his favor.

Heather confessing her undead love would send Veronica running straight into his arms.

*** 

“Can you not stomp around like a goddamn elephant?” Heather hissed, pinching J.D.’s arm as hard as she could. She earned a wince and a death glare. Not enough. She wanted to draw blood.

Heather could not _believe _that she was sneaking into Veronica’s house with the psycho that killed her. But getting rid of him required forethought and planning. She and Veronica would figure it out. Until then, it seemed she was stuck with him.

And if she was a tiny bit relieved to finally be able to talk to someone, someone who was as dead as as she was, she would never admit it to a soul (ha).

They both agreed that floating up to Veronica’s room was a bad idea. She was already terrified, so a subtler, more y’know _living human being_ approach was preferable. J.D. suggested kidnapping. Heather suggested waiting for her parents to go to sleep and knocking on her bedroom door. Then, _maybe _grabbing her, covering her mouth so she couldn’t scream, and calmly explaining that they didn’t mean her any harm. J.D. begrudgingly agreed and (in Heather’s opinion) much too quickly and enthusiastically offered to be the one to subdue her.

Heather knew that it wasn’t the best plan they could’ve come up with, but they were both much too eager to get back to Veronica. The longer they spent at the Snappy Snack Shack, the worse they felt until Heather couldn’t stand to be in the parking lot anymore, her skin felt like it was on fire. Walking to Veronica’s house was an instant relief.

Heather didn’t want to dwell on what that meant for her future. Not for the first time, she wished she had a little guidance.

She also didn’t want to think about what she was going to say to Veronica, and what Veronica was going to say in turn. J.D. obviously had some grand delusions about Veronica expressing her love for him and leaping into his cold, dead arms. Heather knew for a fact that that wasn’t going to happen. She had seen and heard everything; she knew their rise and fall, and she knew Veronica.

Heather was rational. Unlike psycho serial killer Red Dawn. Veronica wasn’t going to react the way either of them would hope, but she thought there was a good chance that their years together (talking on the phone every night, sleepovers most weekends, sharing each and every secret) would overcome their most recent…fight. And there had been moments before she died when Heather had thought she’d seen a flutter of something _more_.

“So,” J.D. tried to whisper as they reached the door. The boy could not lower his voice. It was incredible. Heather wanted to push him down the stairs. Would that kill him? Maybe she should try. “What if she doesn’t answer?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “We go through the door, dipshit. Now shut the fuck up.”

She paused, listened carefully, then, hearing nothing, gave a few hesitant knocks. Like she was Mrs. Sawyer checking on her traumatized daughter. Aaaaaaand…nothing. She shared a look with J.D. “After you,” he gestured mockingly, licked his lips.

Heather’s heart pounded hard, her breathing quickened. She almost started giggling at the ridiculousness of a dead girl’s body reacting in such a _live _way. But then she was inside the room and Veronica was sprawled out across the bedding in only a big T-shirt and panties with a bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. She blanched, quickly snatched up the orange bottle, then threw it back down, relieved that it was a new bottle and only a few pills were missing. Doctor’s orders.

She looked over her shoulder at J.D.; his eyes were trained on Veronica with a scary sort of hunger. Fuck, this guy was a creep.

“Don’t think she’s gonna wake up for a few hours. We can wait it out. I feel better in here anyway.” Heather was used to spending most of her hours in Veronica’s room. It was homey at this point.

“Why can’t we just shake her awake?” J.D. swept everything off of the desk – books, pens, papers went crashing to the floor – and sat on it. Heather could _not_.

“Wow, now I know what Veronica saw in you. So sensitive and kind.”

She perched daintily on the bed next to the sleeping girl and just barely resisted the urge to smooth a hand through her dark hair. J.D. would retaliate, and she did not need another fight at the moment. Too much to think about.

“You know Jason, you should really think about–”

“Shut up, Chandler. Come here.”

She turned to see him thumbing through a small, leather-bound book. Veronica’s diary. Heather leapt to her feet, fuming. “Put that goddamn thing away. You are the most inconsiderate, insufferable human being I’ve ever met.”

“Aw, but Heather! Don’t you want to see all the _interesting _things your darling wrote about you,” he taunted, then stopped cold, mouth going slack, “fuck, seriously, come look at this.”

She padded over cautiously. “What? Is she just going on about how sad she is that you blew your guts all over – oh.”

They both peered at the two-page spread. The last two pages that Veronica had written in. In big loopy letters:

_Are they coming back? Where did they go?_

The next page:

_Please let them come back._

And was that a tear stain warping the lines? Heather snatched up the book eagerly. This was better than she expected. (It would’ve been fucking fantastic if she had only wished for _her _back, but she could live with it for the time being. Veronica was scared and confused.)

J.D. wrenched the diary from her hands. “We’re waking her up.”

For once, Heather agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Veronica woke to two voices in her ear and one large hand shaking her shoulder. She squinted blearily, gave a dopey smile.

“Heyuh.” Her eyelids struggled to stay open. Black and pink silhouettes shifted. She was so tired. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled at the collar of J.D.’s coat, the sleeve of Heather’s nightgown.

“Bed,” she yawned. The least her addled mind could do was give her J.D. and Heather for the night. She deserved that.

Veronica’s eyes started to slip shut, but her dead weren’t complying. Why, oh why could she not get what she wanted even in her pill-induced fever dream? “Bed,” she repeated firmly, pulled a little harder until two bodies squeezed next to her, one on each side.

“G’night.” She snuggled in, face pressed between Heather’s breasts and ass pushed into J.D.’s crotch. So comfy. She drifted off to sleep. 

*** 

“What the fuck?” Heather mouthed above Veronica’s head once the girl started to snore. 

J.D. shook his head in exasperation. “The pills?” He mouthed back.

But neither ghost complained after that. It was a much needed night of rest for all three.

***

Veronica blinked and immediately wrinkled her nose. She had drooled all over her pillow, could feel the chalky spit sticking to her mouth. How nice. She smacked her lips together in distaste. Her pillow was so hot (from her face?) but didn’t feel…

She tried to sit up, but then strong arms were holding her down and a dainty hand clapped over her mouth. 

Veronica’s gasp was cut off. It wasn’t a fever dream. She had really pulled her dead ex-boyfriend and dead ex-best friend into bed with her and used them as her own personal body pillows. Good god.

J.D.’s face hovered above her own. He was smiling as wide as she had ever seen. It both terrified and exhilarated her. Soooooo that hadn’t changed. But then Heather’s face was pushing into view, mostly concerned and vaguely annoyed. Veronica turned a deep crimson when she realized what her pillow actually was.

“Morning, Ronnie. How are you feel–”

“If I take my hand away, you won’t scream right? You’ll let me explain?”

J.D. narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but then they both turned and looked down at her expectantly. They were probably thinking of last time when she had a panic attack from seeing them fighting on the floor.

(In all honesty, she was very cool and collected considering her situation – being in bed with two dead people who were likely seeking vengeance for their murders/suicides. But glimpsing them for a brief second before her parents burst through the door hadn’t been enough. Veronica didn’t care what their motives were for coming back, she just wanted it so bad. And here they were.)

Veronica shook her head. She wouldn’t scream. Not if they would leave again.

Heather removed her hand. J.D. did not remove his death grip on her (death. Ha.)

“I’m sorry I thought you guys were dreams,” she babbled, decidedly _not _looking at Heather’s chest, and oh dear god did she really push her ass unashamedly into J.D.’s crotch because dear lord, “I didn’t mean to hijack you into my bed.” And make semi-sexual advances on both of you.

“Are you ghosts? Demons? Are you going to kill me too? I mean, I was the one who killed both of you, or had a hand in it really. I guess–”

Heather’s hand was covering her mouth again and she and J.D. were sharing a look. Huh. Death brings people together.

“God, Sawyer, will you just shut up for a second.” Heather was smiling a little and Veronica relaxed, eyes flicking greedily to J.D. He was so beautiful it hurt, and he was looking at her like she was the sun. They both were. And they came back and they were in her bed and she was so happy that her eyes welled up with tears.

“I’m so happy,” she whispered when the hand disappeared. “I missed you so much.”

And it was true.

She had Betty Finn, Martha, and Heather McNamara, but none of them grabbed hold of her _soul _as much as Heather and J.D. No one else could command her attention, leave her breathless and wanting and so alive. She felt horrible about it, but she needed more – she needed them. When Heather died, she had J.D. With both of them dead, she was lost, lost, lost. And it hurt so much, so bad. But now they were back!

“Which one?” Two voices asked simultaneously. She blinked, sensed the thickening tension and climbed out from between them. She was going to have to navigate this very, very carefully. Heather had always been jealous of her interactions with anyone else – boy or girl. (She hated Betty Finn with a passion.) And J.D. was…J.D. Possessive, wonderful, horrible J.D. 

Veronica sat on her windowsill, acutely aware she was only in a t-shirt and panties, but both ghosts _had _seen her naked. In entirely different situations, but still.

“I missed you both, and I’m glad you both came back,” she answered firmly, ignoring J.D.’s raised eyebrows and Heather’s huff of annoyance. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I am so, so sorry for everything that’s happened.

  
“I’m sorry that you died because of me. I’m sorry I fucked things up so bad with both of you.” The tears of happiness were taking a turn. Veronica sniffed, face scrunching up as she tried to keep it together. “I screwed up over and over again, and I’m the one that’s still alive which is so unfair, I –”

And then a set of slender arms were draping around her shoulders, and Heather was hugging her tightly. She shivered when soft lips barely ghosted the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder. Heather used to be _so good _at that. Little touches, sly looks that had Veronica reeling for days about what they meant, if she was only imagining things. She used to think that Heather had just been good at manipulation, maybe sensed Veronica’s attraction and used that to her advantage. Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

Veronica’s eyes squeezed open to see J.D. standing behind Heather, mouth set into a hard line, eyes burning. She reached out and intertwined their fingers. The familiar roughness of his palm had her heart fluttering.

Veronica leaned back into the window when she felt Heather stiffen.

“I watched you both die. Right there in front of me,” she pleaded. “Please.”

She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for, but their faces softened almost identically. Veronica was suddenly struck by how alike they were. Beautiful, charismatic, and terrible. Beacons that she couldn’t help but be drawn to, and when they were snuffed out of her life, she was lost.

“Just be with me for a little longer, okay? Whatever it takes.”

***

J.D. and Heather were coaxed into bed again that night. It didn’t take much. Just Veronica asking shyly.

“I won’t do what I did last night,” eyes on the floor and cheeks tinted red, “I just think going back to your beds will be pretty sad if no one can see you, and I slept so well. Actually, it might have been the pills but –”

It was J.D. that stopped her that time, eyes rolling affectionately. Another goddamn night with Heather, but another night with Veronica. He could make the sacrifice.

Heather’s line of thinking was much the same.

Each shift in sleep caused a war. Veronica threw her arm over J.D.’s chest. Heather glared at him for thirty minutes until Veronica rolled over and intertwined their legs; she shot him a triumphant smile. And so on. And so on.

Veronica was blissfully unaware of the turmoil she caused with each change of position.

She woke up flush against them both.

*** 

The three quickly settled into a routine.

Veronica suspected her dead had come to an agreement without her knowledge. Heather accompanied her to school, and J.D. was always waiting in her car when the bell rang. It became normal. Homey even.

“Poseeeeer,” Heather hissed behind her shoulder, eyes narrowed at Heather Duke as she sauntered toward the jock table decked head to toe in red. Veronica’s lip twitched, but she refrained from acknowledging the ghost in public. That would be too much for her fragile friends.

Veronica’s new table consisted of Heather McNamara, Martha, and Betty Finn. It was nice. The girls got along famously, despite their varied social types. Yet Veronica’s favorite guest was unseen and unheard.

Heather mostly ignored Heather McNamara and Martha, but she more than made up for it with a vicious hatred of Heather Duke and Betty. Veronica couldn’t help but be amused by her antics.

She understood somewhat the aversion toward Duke (hell, she often felt it herself), but her blatant animosity toward Betty was more of a thinker.

Her eyes followed the dead girl as she stomped toward Duke and plucked at her red bow. Heather whipped around, eyes passing directly through Heather before turning back toward the football team, cheeks red at her apparent mistake.

Veronica giggled. Betty smiled at her. “What’s so funny, Ronnie?”

Heather was back in a flash, floating behind her oldest friend with a shark grin that she swore the girl stole from J.D.

“Yeah, what’s so funny, Ronnnnnnnie?” Long lashes fluttered at her.

Veronica had to put in a lot of effort not to shift her eyes from Betty’s. “Nothing, girl, just Duke being a pillowcase, as usual.”

She lost Heather in the crowd marching toward the parking lot.

Veronica smelled the smoke before she saw J.D. He had the passenger seat all the way down, his hands behind his head and eyes closed. Veronica would’ve thought he was sleeping, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the ghosts never truly slept.

“Hey,” she said softly as she slipped into the driver’s seat. He blinked slowly. “Where do you want to go today?”

They had few choices, the Snappy Snack Shack being one of his favorites.

“The woods.”

Veronica repressed a shiver. She didn’t mind the woods, but she couldn’t help but feel that the clearing was still haunted by what they did there. Not that it was truly haunted, of course. _She _was the one truly haunted. Exhibit A in her passenger seat.

“Old memories?” She said wryly as they rumbled down the back road. He sat up, flashed her a grin and rolled down the window to light up.

“Mmm.” A drag. “We made a good memory when the cops left.” A hand crept up her thigh. Her breath hitched as she put the car in park in the familiar spot.

She turned to face him, eyes wide and questioning. He hadn’t really tried anything in the few weeks since he and Heather came back. Some lingering touches. One or two chaste kisses. She was getting a little frustrated. Sleeping every night between them was a test of her self-control.

“I liked what we did in my backyard.” Her hand covered his, then slowly moved it to her hip. She smiled innocently at him, bit her lower lip in a way she knew he liked. Heather had riled her up at school, brushing up against her in the hallways, playing footsie with her in the back of class, her eyes filled with mirth as Veronica grew more and more flustered.

J.D. squeezed her hip, gaze darkening. “That was a good night.”

This was it. She was finally going to get some goddamn release! J.D. was leaning over the console, other hand cradling her cheek, their lips met, tongues slid across each other…

SMACK!

Someone slammed their hands against the window.

Veronica shrieked. J.D. cursed. Heather got into the backseat.

“Your parents are getting worried about you. Driving off by yourself for hours every day after school.” She smiled sweetly at them. “Better get home before they find you out here all by yourself, where Kurt and Ram died. Might look suspicious.”

J.D. glared out the window, Heather smiled smugly.

Veronica revved up the car. “Shit, you’re right.” Betty Finn _had _asked what she did after school just yesterday, with a hint of concern in her eyes. Did her mom put her up to it?

When Veronica parked in her driveway, Heather and J.D. were both gone. She hated how they did that.

She fixed her hair and grabbed her bookbag before walking in.

“Hey kid.” Her parents were sitting on the couch, looking concerned. Great.

***

“You were about to fuck me over.”

J.D sunk down into the Sawyer lawn furniture, peering at the blonde dead girl stomping through the croquet set. He could still taste Veronica on his tongue, could feel the heat from her body in the car. It was like heaven.

“She wanted it, Chandler. And do you spy on us every day?” He arched a brow.

Heather’s pacing faltered. “_You _touched her leg, _you _leaned in first.” She didn’t answer the second charge. “We agreed that she has to be the one to make the decision all on her own.”

J.D. got to his feet, eyes blazing. “All on her own?” He laughed harshly, striding forward until they were face to face. “Don’t even fucking pretend that you’re not little miss _seduction _all day at school. Holding her hand at her locker, rubbing your foot up her fucking thigh during biology lab–“

“Aha!” Heather cried. “And you accuse ME of spying?!”

***

Just as Veronica was finishing up her heart to heart, she noticed a flicker of black fabric in the backyard. She waited until her parents left for their Friday night date to investigate.

J.D. and Heather arguing again. Veronica watched through the window, quickly growing annoyed. They were fighting so intensely that neither ghost noticed her, and they were standing so close together…

A delicious shiver suddenly rolled through her. A solution to their problems, if she could make it work. But not tonight. She needed a bit of planning, some time to build up the nerve. Annoyance turned to affection; she gave a wave when Heather finally turned away from J.D. and saw her.

Veronica stepped out into the yard.

“Anyone up for a game of croquet?”

***

“I hate this place.”

Heather rested her head against the brick wall of the Snappy Snack Shack. She didn’t even care that her curls were getting screwed up. Veronica was all she could think about.

She had been acting weird all day. Nervous and twitchy. She had snapped at both of them multiple times, and when they got into a (not even) little spat, Veronica banished them from the house. They were only allowed to return for bed. The two ghosts had sulked away like scolded children.

“Anywhere else you’d like to go, sweetheart?” J.D. asked, sarcasm laced in his voice. Heather rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. Hard.

“It’s just like, what the fuck did _we _do? Nothing out of the ordinary. She’s in a real bitch of a mood.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know. But it’s almost time to go back.” He flexed his fingers. The joints burned. “I’m starting to feel bad again.”

Heather rolled her neck, grimacing. “Tell me about it.”

They waited until the pain was almost unbearable, which didn’t take long. Veronica usually went to sleep relatively early anyways.

“Mommy and Daddy aren’t home,” Heather remarked as they walked up the driveway. “Front door or window?”

“Window.” J.D. preferred his old ways.

Veronica was waiting for them when they floated through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but it's a doozy. Thank you, as always, for reading.

Veronica was so, so nervous, but it couldn’t go on like this. She couldn’t be unbearably horny every night lying in between them, not getting so much as properly _tongue kissed _in weeks. She knew they both wanted her; that much was at least clear. But they had this ridiculous competition thing going on that Veronica could only guess at, and she was tired.

So, she did her research. (Very covertly of course, in case either were floating around.)

Veronica couldn’t say she was very sexually experienced, but she hoped her enthusiasm would make up for that. It blew her mind how many ways three people could be together. So she carefully selected one variation that looked like a good beginning for her and her dead. One that would put the onus on her and not throw J.D. and Heather into direct contact with each other, in case they weren't ready for that. Though they would be eventually if she had anything to say about that. 

(And just the thought of her in that position _with them_ using her made her toes curl, if she was being quite honest. )

So, she was naked, except for knee-high blue socks, and sitting on her desk chair, legs crossed. She thought she looked pretty sexy, if she did so say herself.

She relished the way their eyes popped when they drifted through her window.

“I want you. Both of you,” she got out before they could say anything, before she lost her nerve. “At the same time. Which is right now.”

Heather’s jaw dropped, J.D. looked murderous (as usual). Not a great sign, but she was committed.

She stood up, padded over to them. Could feel their gazes going down her body. She wanted to take advantage of their temporarily stunned state.

“I’m not going to choose between you. I’m done with choosing. I love you both.” She looked at them fiercely. “And that’s okay. Sometimes it’s like that. So you’re both going to love me.” 

Veronica paused, contemplating, “and maybe love each other,” she added as a hopeful afterthought.

Heather reacted first, grasped both her hands and leaned in close enough to kiss. “Do you really want our first time to be with him?” She pleaded, eyes big and wide.

J.D. pushed into her place, brows furrowed. “Ronnie, remember how good we were together?” One big hand on her bare hip. Veronica was quickly growing wet. “No point in changing it up.”

But Veronica was not going to be persuaded. She crossed her arms over her chest, much to the two ghosts’ chagrin. 

“Together or not at all,” she stated firmly. “And by not at all I mean I’m going to light some candles, put on some music, and spend a good hour getting myself off and _you two __can watch_.”

Heather and J.D. shared a long look. It was working…maybe. She really couldn’t decipher their glances. Yet another reason why this was a great idea. They had forged a bond all their own. And she would bring it out.

Finally, Heather relented. She turned to J.D. 

“Alright, psycho, let’s see what’s underneath all that black.” A wicked grin.

Veronica frowned at the name, but approved of the general sentiment. Both girls looked at J.D. expectantly. A brief flash of annoyance but then he was shrugging out of his coat and unlacing his boots.

Veronica was ecstatic. This could not have gone smoother. Once J.D. was down to his boxers, she grabbed both their hands and led them to the bed, body shaking slightly.

Heather didn’t have on as many layers. Veronica gently undid the bow that tied her bathrobe together and there she was, as beautifully nude as Venus. She gulped, eyes flicking up to meet blue in wonder, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the girl’s collarbone. Heather sighed and Veronica felt her nuzzling into her hair, one small hand rested on her shoulder.

J.D. was maneuvering behind her, then his hands were resting on her hips and his lips were at her neck, a hard chest pressing into her back. Veronica moaned happily against Heather’s skin and moved down with her tongue to one pink nipple, couldn’t resist another look up. Heather was already gazing down at her, eyes clouded in lust. Veronica pursed her lips around the nub and swirled her tongue, focusing on doing it just like J.D. did. And speaking of J.D., she could feel his clothed hardness rub against the small of her back as he sucked hickies into her skin.

Veronica’s lips left Heather’s nipple with a wet pop as she leaned back into J.D.; they both gently fell on the sheets. She reached out to grab Heather’s hips until the girl was flush against her, their mouths connecting. She moaned as their slick pussies rubbed together, creating a friction she had never felt in quite this way before. 

J.D. pushed his boxers down and grabbed himself, watching the two girls. Heather was, yes, a bitch. Yes, everything he had ever despised. But he had to admit that she looked pretty damn good on top of Veronica. Blonde curls wild and tumbling down her back, full tits pressed against Veronica’s own, and little noises spilling into his girlfriend’s mouth. He was so fucking hard.

Veronica broke the kiss, panting, and licked her lips at J.D.’s cock. “Want you to fuck me.” She nipped Heather’s neck. “Want you to sit on my face.”

“Okay,” Heather breathed back. She rolled off the girl, body brushing against J.D. who was already lining himself up with Veronica’s entrance. He was big. And he looked much better naked than with the stupid trench coat. His head lolled back and his moans melded with Veronica’s as he pushed inside. Heather faced him and settled herself over Veronica’s mouth, lowering down until the most sensitive parts of her were flush against hot lips.

Heather and J.D. looked into each other’s eyes over Veronica, each flushed with pleasure. With every moan and thrust and whimper they drew closer together until Heather was digging her teeth into the juncture of skin between J.D.’s neck and shoulder, and J.D was thrusting harder and harder from the pain and pleasure, groaning into blonde curls.

Veronica was just so good, good, good. Her tongue was better than _all _of the Remington University guys that Heather had fucked in nasty frat houses. And she had absolutely no idea how Veronica was managing to focus on giving her pleasure while she was getting so roughly fucked, but she was so grateful. She came, crying out Veronica’s name, and fell to the bed, watching through lidded eyes as J.D. sped up his thrusts and thumb on her clit until they both finished – J.D. with "fuck, fuck, fuck" and Veronica with a small scream.

It was a few long minutes later when Veronica finally spoke.

“And that was only one way to do it.” A breathless giggle. “Threesomes allow for a wide variety of positions, you know.” 


End file.
